


Dangerous, but peaceful

by Anonymous



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cooking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Forests, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Mushrooms, Pack Cuddles, Protective Katsuki Yuuri, Self Confidence Issues, Sharing a Bed, Shifter AU, Victor and Yuuri are so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 11:52:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9819212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: AU where everyone is a shifter, set post-canon. Yuri, Yuuri and Viktor go out mushroom picking in the forests near St Petersburg when Yuri and Yuuri are surprised by a wild boar. More surprising to Yuri, though, is what Yuuri shifts into in order to protect him. Viktor is desperately relieved that they both survived, even though Yuuri is hurt; in the end, this might be the first step along the road to convincing his Yuuri that his shifted form is beautiful, not scary.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone is a shifter, but because humans have mingled for tens of thousands of years, it’s always a bit uncertain which bit of your bloodline will determine your shifted form. It’s generally impolite to inquire as to someone’s form if you haven’t been told, mostly because of the stereotyping and discrimination that can follow.
> 
> Also, the picking mushrooms thing is not made up, just in case anyone else wanted an excuse to get our favourite skaters into the woods: http://www.nytimes.com/2013/10/06/travel/if-you-are-normal-you-search-for-mushrooms.html

Hunting for mushrooms was possibly the most delightful thing that Yuuri had done since coming to St Petersburg; on their rest day, they’d got up and had a leisurely breakfast, picked up Yurio from Madame Lilia’s place, and driven out to the forest, parking where they could walk through the shivering aspen leaves as a breeze stirred Yuuri’s hair. Somewhere off in the distance, bells tinkled, like forest spirits. 

“It’s for children,” said Viktor. “It’s so they don’t get lost; you pin bells to their clothing.” He laughed. “Maybe we should pin some to Yurio!” 

“Fuck off,” said Yurio. 

“Such language!” 

“Do you want me to cook for you, or not?” asked Yurio, stomping off ahead of them. “I’m the one here who knows what’s poisonous!” He turned back. “Don’t eat anything until I’ve told you it’s all right, okay?” 

“Okay!” said Victor, in that way he had that meant he probably wasn’t listening. Yuuri reached out and threaded their fingers together. 

“I’ll make sure of it,” said Yuuri, and Yurio snorted and started bending to examine things in the undergrowth, occasionally making satisfied comments to himself in Russian and plucking what looked like the most beautiful fungus Yuuri had ever seen; huge, creamy looking things in all the colours of the forest. 

“How does he know?” asked Yuuri, as Makkachin ran slow circles around himself and Viktor.

“How does he know what?” 

“What’s poison, and what isn’t.” 

“His grandfather taught him,” said Viktor. “It’s something you do; you go out to the forest and pick mushrooms. It’s a family thing. Like a scavenger hunt.” Viktor squeezed his hand. “Yuuri, will you mind horribly if I…?” 

“Go ahead,” said Yuuri, because he knew what Viktor was going to ask. 

“You could change with me?” 

“And scare everyone away?” asked Yuuri. He shook his head. “No.” 

They walked on, away from Yurio and the tinkling bells, away from the shadows of people through the undergrowth and the occasional bright flash of their clothing between tree trunks, and eventually came to a clearing; Yuuri helped Viktor off with his shirt, kissing him for good measure, slipping Viktor’s ring onto a chain around his own neck. 

“Put yours there too,” said Viktor, with a playful grin. “I don’t want my ring to be lonely.” 

Yuuri laughed, and did as he asked, watching avariciously as Viktor stepped out of his trousers, the sunlight through the trees making his pale skin dappled. Yuuri couldn’t resist stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Viktor’s waist, settling their bodies together, his clothed, Viktor’s not. Viktor smiled, and kissed him. 

“My Yuuri,” he said, almost against Yuuri’s mouth. “I would love to have you here in the forest — but —“ At that precise moment, some bells and voices sounded a little too close for comfort. “Maybe later.” 

Viktor shifted, his long, lithe body becoming small, his shifted form smaller even than Makkachin. Small and so beautifully graceful; he’d told Yuuri once that he was a _korsák_ , which Wikipedia seemed to think was some kind of fox, but to Yuuri he looked more graceful than a regular fox. The foxiest fox, Viktor had said, when Yuuri asked, and he’d winked, and Yuuri had wished that he didn’t have to be ashamed of his own shifted form. 

Mari hated that Yuuri was ashamed. They were of a rare bloodline, she said, and rarer still that both she and Yuuri had the same form. But where their shared animal seemed to suit Mari, Yuuri had just never felt right. He wished he were smaller, like Viktor, or at the very least, something graceful and lovely, not…himself. He wished he didn’t have to do extra security checks wherever he went, his passport and identity documents marked with _dangerous shifted form_. 

Yuuri knelt down; Viktor licked his face before haring off after Makkachin. Chuckling to himself, Yuuri picked up Viktor’s clothes, and carried them on one arm, the basket they’d been sharing on the other arm. Viktor loved to shift; he often padded around the house as his fox-self, sleeping cuddled up to Makkachin, or curled into a ball on Yuuri’s stomach. Whenever they flew, he’d shift once the plane hit altitude, and cuddle in Yuuri’s arms; Yuuri loved that, loved having Viktor where he could keep him safe and close. Whenever Viktor could convince Yuuri to shift (in the privacy of their own apartment, of course), he’d nuzzle in close, fur on fur, and lick Yuuri’s snout with little excited yips. 

Viktor didn’t seem to care that their inner selves should have been entirely incompatible. Viktor didn’t care at all that he was a small bloodline and Yuuri was huge and lumbering and inconvenient. Viktor was like Yuuri’s armour, a warm and soothing armour that protected him from the world just by laughing and caressing Yuuri, telling him that it was all right to be unashamed, showing him that it was all right to want things. 

That said, Yuuri had been brought up with stories of people who shifted and got stuck, or people who shifted too much and decided that they liked being an animal better. Sometimes — just sometimes — he feared that Viktor would leave him to become a full-time fox. 

He didn’t know many of the other skaters’ animals. It wasn’t really something that it was all right to ask about, in Japan, and it seemed like in Russia people either just told you (like Georgi) or politely withheld. Some of them he could guess — Mila was something like him, her strength far more than her small body should seem to hold. Yurio was more like Viktor; lighter than his human form suggested, so graceful that Yuuri thought he must be a mid-sized cat of some kind. He certainly hissed when he was surprised (as Mila and Viktor had demonstrated by sneaking up on him on more than one occasion). 

Yuuri found a big patch of mushrooms, and picked them carefully, snapping them at the base, wondering what Yurio would want to do with them. He’d been quite insistent about cooking — Yuuri had picked up in the weeks he’d spent in Russia that Yurio liked to cook — and quite insistent that Yuuri and Viktor share the spoils. Yuuri hoped that meant that Yurio saw them as — well, not as family, but as good friends. Yuuri didn’t have many friends in Russia. He could always stand to make one more. 

A child ran past, tinkling and giggling, and Yuuri found himself looking up at the endless blue sky through the branches of the trees. The light was different here — like it had been different in America. The sky was ridiculously blue, too, and the whole world felt perfectly balanced, like moving to Russia had been the best thing he could have chosen. Viktor and Makkachin burst out of the undergrowth, Viktor running up to Yuuri and jumping into his arms, getting a quick cuddle before squirming free. Viktor had such energy and enthusiasm for life, and it was a little infectious — Yuuri ran after them for a while, but stopped when he saw a huge cluster of porcini, sniffing them to make sure. He didn’t need to shift for his excellent sense of smell to work. He knelt and gathered them — Yurio would be ecstatic, he’d been going on about porcini being the king of mushrooms — and Yuuri managed to stop himself from eating one only by reminding himself that they’d need to be cooked, or he’d have to shift to really enjoy the taste. Neither of which he would be doing here. 

He sighed happily, and stretched. Russia had been a surprise — everything about Viktor, really, was a surprise — but it was a surprise that he was very swiftly learning to love. 

 

________________

 

Yuri had a whole basket of mushrooms when he found Porkchop in a clearing near one of the old war trenches. One time when his grandfather had visited, they’d come out here, and grandfather had told him that the trenches were to stop tanks. Yuri was glad they were growing places for mushrooms now.

He rolled his eyes when he saw that Viktor had left his clothes with Piggy. So he’d gone off being a stupid fox and playing with Makkachin instead of doing what a normal person confronted with such a bounty of food would do. 

“Yurio!” said Piggy. “Come and look at what I’ve found.” 

The pig had a decent hoard in his basket, and, shockingly, he’d managed to pick only ones that were edible. Yuri looked them over, and immediately began cataloguing what he could make with them — even just frying them lightly onto toast would be like heaven to eat. Madame Lilia let him cook, sometimes, and he cherished the opportunity, the connection to his grandfather, the sheer fact of making something and having people enjoy it, making something that was successful without anyone needing to slap a gold medal on it. He didn’t want to push it with her, though. She liked to control everything in her life, and that included her best pots. He was glad Viktor had said he’d give over his kitchen. 

“You didn’t suck as much as I thought you would,” said Yuri, looking up at Piggy’s happy face. “Did that old moron leave you to fend for yourself?” 

“He’s around somewhere,” said Piggy, and Yuri envied him the certainty in his expression, the knowledge that if someone left you, they’d come back. “I’m glad you suggested this; it’s beautiful.” 

“Yeah, it’s all right,” said Yuri. “You’ve gotta learn to like this if you’re going to live here.” 

“I like it all—“ Piggy stopped, and turned. “Can you smell that?” 

“What?” asked Yuri. 

“Oh shit,” said Piggy, the first time Yuri had ever heard him swear. “Yurio, very slowly, get behind me.” 

Yuri followed his gaze, and his entire gut seized up when he saw that, standing on the edge of the clearing observing them, was an absolutely enormous wild boar. It wasn’t a human shifter; there was no intelligence in its eyes, and it was filthy, reeking of sour urine and rotting meat. 

“That’s definitely a wild animal, isn’t it?” asked Piggy. 

“Yeah,” said Yuri, slowly backing to him. “I mean, we could ask it, but I think it might eat us.” 

“Okay. So I think we have two choices. Either we climb a tree, or we stand our ground.” 

“ _Stand our ground_? Are you insane?” 

The boar put its head down, and grunted. It was practically a growl. 

“Yurio,” said Porkchop, way too calmly. “What’s your shifter form?” 

“Not something that can kill a boar,” said Yuri, clutching Piggy’s arm despite himself. “Can’t you talk with it, pig-to-pig?” 

“My shifter form isn’t a pig,” said Porkchop, still calm, like there wasn’t a huge steaming animal staring them both down and eyeing off their mushrooms. It was the kind of calm he got in competition, that scary calm that meant he was about to do something fucking outstanding. “If I shift, will you hold it together?” 

“Why?” asked Yuri. “What are you going to turn into, a lion?” 

The boar, evidently deciding that the two humans weren’t a threat but the mushrooms were too enticing, charged. Yuuri, quicker than Yuri had given him credit for, shoved Yuri behind himself, and then met the boar head on, shifting as he ran. Yuri grabbed both their baskets, and watched. Piggy didn’t follow the usual pattern of skater shifters — his shifted form wasn’t too different in size to his usual human form, whereas most figure skaters were small-animal shifters. Large-animal shifters usually became pro-wrestlers, or hockey players — something that used their innate power rather than their innate grace. Skaters were cats and foxes and lemurs, and that one guy who was a hamster. 

Well, there were Mila and Otabek, but they were exceptions. 

Looked like Piggy was an exception, too — his arms were growing broader and hairier, and his clothes split off him, and he bared his teeth and holy fuck, Piggy was a bear. Like, an actual bear. It was black-furred, smaller than the big brown bears that Yuri remembered from zoo trips and that one time with Otabek, and there was a splash of white across his chest, and his fur was like midnight. Yuuri pushed forward and sank teeth and claws into the boar, which squealed horribly. 

Terror pierced Yuri’s heart, a deeply ingrained animal fear, and he felt himself begin to shift involuntarily. He swore at himself — he was sixteen, dammit, he was supposed to be able to control the turning instinct — but it was too late. He was going furry and small. Furry and small, and he was suddenly frightened, because between Yuuri-bear and actual-pig, he was very vulnerable. He wriggled free of his clothes, and felt the fur all down his spine stand to attention with the sheer terror of the situation. 

Yuri did the only sensible thing, and climbed a tree. 

On the ground, Yuuri-bear and the pig circled each other. The pig was bleeding, but so was Yuuri — a tusk must have caught him. The pig snorted, and Yuuri growled, both of them clearly itching for a fight. Yuri hissed from his safe spot in the tree — he wasn’t stupid, but he was angry, and he wanted Yuuri to keep the pig away from their mushrooms, dammit. 

The next time Yuuri and the pig clashed, it was dramatic and swift — the boar running, and then Yuuri lashing out, and catching the animal in the throat with his powerful jaws and _tearing_ , and that was it for the pig; it made horrible little noises as it bled out, but it wasn’t trying to kill anyone anymore, and that was the important thing. Also important — upon its death, it didn’t change. A shifter would have shifted back, but this thing just lay there. It had just been an ordinary pig. A big, ordinary, fuckoff angry pig. Yuri was never going to joke about pork chops again. 

Yuuri looked around, sniffing, eventually locking eyes with Yuri. Despite himself, Yuri made a low, desperate sound. Yuuri seemed to recognise it, though, because he lumbered over to Yuri’s tree, and started to climb. 

Yuuri clambered up the tree, slowly, carefully. He made a little clicking noise, something Yuri didn’t really associate with bears, but he could pick up as meaning _it’s all right_. Yuuri held out a broad paw, and Yuri let himself be picked up, clinging a little to Yuuri’s fur as they climbed down. 

Yuri wasn’t really any bigger than a large house cat. They’d all thought he _was_ a large house cat, until he’d found a picture of a leopard cat when he was looking up exotic cat breeds to buy as a pet. He must have been some kind of atavism, a throwback in his family line; no-one in his immediate family shifted into a small spotted cat, and when he went digging, he had to go back to a great-uncle to get someone with the same form. But they’d all been leopard cats once you got far back enough; just not now. 

Yuuri was hurt. Yuri could smell it, and see it in his movements; still, they got back to the ground, and Yuuri hugged Yuri to his body, warm and furry and breathing heavily, and Yuri didn’t mind, because he felt so safe, even though Yuuri was covered in blood and heaving a bit. The boar was dead. Good riddance. Yuri purred, snuggling close to Yuuri’s chest (to comfort him, obviously, Yuri wasn’t still scared) and Yuuri brought one huge paw down to stroke gently against Yuri’s fur. 

 

___________

 

The very last thing that Viktor was expecting after a pleasant run in the woods with Makkachin was to return to what seemed like an injured Yuuri and terrified Yuri, both in their shifted forms, and a very large, very dead, pig. Yuuri had blood on his snout, and for a heart-stopping moment, Viktor thought it was his, but then he realised that no, Yuuri had killed the boar. Yuuri, his darling Yuuri, had killed a rampaging boar. 

If he hadn’t been so heart-stoppingly worried, he might have treasured the image of Yuri rubbing his cheek against Yuuri’s in an obvious attempt at comfort, but his alarm bells were clanging too loudly. Yuuri _never_ shifted in public — his poor lovely Yuuri thought he had to be ashamed of his beautiful, beautiful claws and fur — and Yuuri was making soft little sounds of distress, and he’d just killed a boar, of all things. 

“Yuuri?” barked Makkachin, tail between his legs. 

“It’s all right,” Viktor yapped in return. 

Best he could tell, Makkachin regarded Viktor and Yuuri as pack. Previously, it had only been Viktor and Makka, and Viktor had learned enough basic Dog in that time to know that dogs really weren’t that smart compared to shifted humans, that Makkachin thought Viktor was the literal best being in the world, and that even though Makka was lovely, he wasn’t a replacement for human companionship. Now that he had Yuuri, he suspected he might have been knocked off the ‘best being’ pedestal and onto the ‘second best’. That was all right. Viktor thought that Yuuri was the best, too. 

Viktor shifted, the motion practiced after thousands of times, and he knelt down in front of Yuuri, running gentle hands over Yuuri’s furry cheeks. 

“Yuuri,” he said, soothingly. “What happened, hmm?” He saw Yuri shift in his peripheral vision, and then fumble immediately for his clothes, which were on the nearby grass. Viktor didn’t bother with clothes, but instead tried to reach his Yuuri. 

“There was an actual pig,” said Yuri, sounding a little shaky. “An actual pig that tried to kill us. And Yuuri…” Viktor noticed the name, and he smiled at Yuuri’s somewhat dazed expression. “Yuuri killed it.” 

Even the little children with their bells knew that a wild boar could kill a person. Yuri gathered the abandoned mushrooms, bringing Viktor’s clothes over to him from where Yuuri had dropped them when the boar attacked, and Makkachin came up to snuffle at Yuuri. Viktor got his fingers into the fur of Yuuri’s ruff, and there he found Yuuri’s long chain, stretched tight, and both their rings still on it. 

“Come on, Yuuri,” he said. “Shift back for me. I have some clothes for you, and I want to kiss you.” 

Yuuri made a low, miserable sound, and shifted. Viktor caught him immediately as he fell forward, and Yuuri spat, wiping the blood off his face. Yuri, with remarkable presence of mind, held out a water bottle. Yuuri swished out his mouth, spat again, and then rested against Viktor’s shoulder. 

“Tastes disgusting,” said Yuuri. “I’m going to need a booster of about fifty different—“ Viktor kissed him. “Now _you’re_ going to need a booster of about fifty different—“ Viktor kissed him again, just because he could. 

“My Yuuri,” he said, when they parted. “Where are you hurt?” 

“My side. He got me a good one,” said Yuuri, and sure enough, there was a huge angry mark on Yuuri’s side, between ribs and hip, oozing just a little bit of blood. “I’m going to need some trousers, and a hand up.” 

They shared Viktor’s clothes between them, and made it back to the car, Yuuri and Yuri getting in the back together after Viktor ascertained that the wound wasn’t deep but should be watched whilst they drove home. It _did_ necessitate a trip to the emergency doctor’s, where Yuuri was given some antibiotics and anti-inflammatories, and all three of them had to submit to a rabies shot, just in case. Yuri complained bitterly. Yuuri said nothing, and Viktor yearned to get him home. 

“It is lucky that you two had a bear-shifter with you; make sure he’s there next time you go to the forest,” said the doctor, in English for Yuuri’s benefit. 

“Oh, we will,” said Viktor, squeezing Yuuri’s hand. 

Yuuri nodded. “Yes,” he said. “It was very pleasant until we were disturbed.” 

The doctor chuckled. “Rest up, Mr Katsuki, and shift a few times if you can; it will reduce complications.”

“Thank you,” said Yuuri, and by unspoken agreement, all three returned to Viktor and Yuuri’s place. Yuuri was restless, making Yuri take first shower and then Viktor, and then Viktor insisted Yuuri join him for a few minutes before convincing him to have a soak in the tub instead. Yuuri hated getting into the bath if he hadn’t first washed off in the shower. 

“Oh my Yuuri,” said Viktor, once he managed to ease Yuuri into the bath, a huge bruise spreading across Yuuri’s side. He stroked his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. “You should shift a few times in the next day or two; it will help.” 

“I don’t fit in the tub when I’m shifted,” said Yuuri, as Viktor cupped his hand to trickle water over his hair. It would relax them both, Viktor bathing Yuuri. Sometimes, Viktor wondered how he’d managed to find someone who didn’t just put up with being preened and petted and looked after, but actively encouraged and enjoyed it. He’d scared people off before by just wanting to groom them the way he liked, but Yuuri had been surprisingly tenacious. 

“Oh, we can buy a new tub,” said Viktor, off-handed. “Or we put a hot tub on the balcony.” 

“It would take up the entire balcony,” said Yuuri. 

“That’s not a no,” said Viktor, tipping shampoo onto his hand. “Close your eyes.” 

Yuuri obediently closed his eyes. “I didn’t know Yurio was so little,” he said, as Viktor washed his hair. “I’d always assumed he was a lynx or something. I was so scared he’d get trampled underfoot.” 

“You were so brave today,” said Viktor. “My brave protector.” 

“You weren’t even there.” 

“You’re still my brave protector.” 

“Any time you want,” said Yuuri, and Viktor had to kiss him. 

Eventually, they made it out of the bath and into the living room. Yuri was out there, dressed in one of Viktor’s old track suits, and he was on the phone. Something smelled good, and looking over to the kitchen, Viktor could see a pot gently warming on the stove. 

“…yeah, totally, it came out of nowhere, like bam! I can’t believe how quietly it moved before it was suddenly there.” Yurio was enthusiastically skyping someone. He looked up. “Wait, they’re out here. I’ve got to go. Bye. Yeah. Bye.” 

“You didn’t have to stop talking because of us,” said Yuuri, but Yuri made a face, and that, it seemed, was that. 

“I was hungry, so I cooked,” Yuri replied. “Your kitchen is ridiculous.” 

“Mmm?” asked Viktor. “Bad or good?” 

“Good,” said Yuri. “If I had this kitchen, I wouldn’t be eating only rice and shit.” 

And, of course, that was what had got them into this, wasn’t it? Yuri’s secret cooking obsession, and an outing to pick mushrooms. He’d made a light soup from the most delicate of their haul, and all three of them ate in silence, Yuuri being the first to congratulate the chef, Yuri brushing off the compliment but going pink when Yuuri said it. Viktor’s affection for both of them was like a warm fire in his heart. 

“Your shifter form is pretty all right,” said Yuri, tightly, once dinner was finished and the dishes swishing away in the dishwasher. “I — Can I see it? Now we’re not in danger?” He frowned a little. “A friend of mine is a bear, too. He’s embarrassed about it. I don’t see why you would be, but that makes two of you.” 

“Shifting will help reduce the bruising,” said Viktor. Both Yuris looked at him. “What? You two don’t shift enough, if you don’t know that. Why do you think I shift all the time? It helps work out strains and bruises…little things. You can work yourself hard on the ice, and then shift, and it helps.” He shot a sly look at Yuuri. “It also helps when you have someone to give you ear-scratches and bellyrubs.” 

“I’m a bit big for that,” said Yuuri, resignedly. 

“Nonsense!” 

“It’s true,” said Yuuri. He sighed. “Let me up. I’ll go change in the bedroom.” 

Viktor helped him up instead of letting him up, and Yuuri shuffled off into the bedroom. When he shuffled back, he was still clearly hurting, and he rested his big head on Viktor’s knee, letting Viktor stroke his ears. It was easier to be physically affectionate with someone who’d shifted — it felt less weirdly intimate — still, it was a surprise when Yuri slipped past Viktor and sat next to Yuuri, digging his fingers into Yuuri’s fur, scratching what was obviously an itchy spot. Viktor joined them on the floor, diving in for the uninjured side of Yuuri’s furry belly. Yuuri made a reproachful noise, but didn’t stop him. 

“I mean,” said Yuri, “It’s a cool form. It’s not like you’re a cat.” Yuuri nosed him, and Yuri squirmed, winding up trapped between Viktor and Yuuri, which was probably the opposite of what he wanted. “Don’t baby me! I’m awesome as a cat. But you could kill someone if you wanted to.” 

Yuuri sagged. Viktor had read about this — probably in a magazine in his physiotherapist’s office — about people who shifted into large, frightening animals feeling deep shame because they thought it indicated something about their personality, or something sinister about their subconscious. Yuuri didn’t need to be reminded that he could be lethal. 

“Yuuuuuri,” Viktor said, drawing it out. Yuuri didn’t acknowledge him, so he shifted, and then made Yuuri deal with a lapful of Viktor, puffing out his lovely fluffy tail and pushing his little snout into Yuuri’s, licking Yuuri’s face. He was fully prepared for Yuri to make some sort of snide comment, but instead there was a rush of air beside him, and Yuri joined him, biting Yuuri when Yuuri tried to touch him, but then curling up in his lap without further ado, purring up a storm. 

Next morning, all three of them plus Makkachin were snuggled up on the couch — Viktor curled close to Yuuri’s furry chest, Yurio sprawled over his side, and Makkachin in the warm crook of his legs. Viktor was the first to shift back, followed by his Yuris; Yuuri grunted and pre-emptively held his side, but then looked up at Viktor. 

“You were right,” he said. “It really does feel better.”

Yuri took the opportunity of the distraction to get some clothes on. He snorted at Viktor and Yuuri, probably because they were still touchy-feely even though they were human. 

“Get dressed, idiots,” he said. “I’m going to make us some of those mushrooms for breakfast.”


	2. Postscript

The next time they had to fly out for a competition, they struggled to get back home because of a massive ice storm, which knocked out the power and generally messed up flights and roads and _everything_. It was fun for a while — the airport had a generator, and a good number of their fellow skaters were also stuck in the club member’s lounge, their coaches aggressively ignoring their antics, and the wine and beer was flowing. But it got less fun the longer they were there, and eventually the chill started to creep in; the airport had turned the thermostat down to conserve power, and the night was getting on. 

After a while, people were shifting to stay warm and get comfortable as it became obvious they were there for the night. Yuuri hunted out a blanket that Viktor and Yurio could share once shifted, but Yuuri himself stubbornly told then he’d stay human. Over in the corner, Yakov had commandeered a whole bottle of vodka, claiming it was the way that real men got warm. 

“Yuuri,” said Viktor, plaintively. “You know it’s fine.” 

“I’ll scare people,” said Yuuri, which was true enough. 

“It’s illegal to discriminate…” 

“It’s not illegal to be scared by a bear.” They already had had to do extra security checks, in case Yuuri decided to shift on a plane and start mauling people. 

“I’m cold,” said Viktor, and he shifted, wriggling out of his discarded clothes and curling up close to Yuuri’s side. He shivered pathetically. 

“All right,” said Yuuri, and he carefully undressed, folding up Viktor’s abandoned clothes at the same time as he folded his own, shifting and then snuggling up with Viktor and their blanket. It took about thirty seconds before he heard purring, and a feline weight jumped onto the small of his back, ignoring the blanket and instead kneading his muscles with paws and claws before curling up and purring right over Yuuri’s ribcage, where it felt like it was reverberating through his body. Mila snuggled in on Yuuri’s other side, her wolf tail wagging a bit, and even Georgi’s black cat curled up on Yuuri’s broad back, close to but not touching Yurio. 

During the night he felt tiny Phichit join them, curling in near Yuuri’s neck, and Chris — a mid-size lynx, a bit bigger than Viktor — piling on. He supposed he should be grateful no coaches got into the pile with them. The icing on the cake was a second bear, enormous and brown — Otabek, he later discovered — who lumbered up and curled up around _everyone_ , and was as warm as a furnace and actually very comfortable to lean against. 

“You’re like a pair of heaters, you bears,” murmured Viktor, the next day, after they’d tidied themselves in the airport lounge bathrooms, back to human form for breakfast. “It was good that you shifted.” 

“We should do that more often,” yawned Mila, resting her head on Yuuri’s shoulder as they sat by each other. “You’re epic, Yuuri.” 

“So’s Otabek,” said Yurio, indignant.

“So, you know what a _bear_ means in slang, don’t—“ Chris began, and Yuuri put his head in his hands. “Relax, Yuuri, we’ve all seen you naked, we know you’re not…” 

“That is not helping,” said Yuuri, through his hands. 

“And Viktor put a pic of all of us sleeping together on Instagram.” Phichit sounded overly pleased. “We’ve got so many likes! They’re saying it’s the new Ellen selfie.” 

“You _what_?” Yuuri and Yurio said, simultaneously. 

Viktor raised both hands. “Yes, but you love me?” he said. 

“I do,” said Yuuri, expression softening.

“I just wanted to show off how lovely my Yuuri was,” said Viktor. “In any form.” 

“Oh,” said Yuuri, and several others around the table cooed a bit, too. Georgi muttered something about true love. Yuuri took Viktor’s hand. “ _Viktor._ ” 

“How did you even operate the camera?” asked Yuri. “You have _paws_.” Yuri kicked Viktor, causing what turned out later to be a rather magnificent bruise. 

It was all right, though, because once they’d finally got home to St Petersburg, Yuuri took his time about kissing it better.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were wondering: [Viktor](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corsac_fox); [Yuri P](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leopard_cat); and [Yuuri K](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japanese_black_bear).


End file.
